A Royal Wedding
by Bellantara
Summary: After the fall of Doom, Sven and Romelle are getting married. . .
1. Chapter 1

Sven hadn't been able to sleep, between half-healed injuries, nerves, and missing Romelle in his arms. By sunrise, he was in the family kitchen, making coffee and writing a note to Romelle.

Keith found him there when he came in from his Tai Chi. "Morning," he said quietly, grabbing a cup of coffee and dropping into a chair.

Sven looked at him miserably. "I vould not know. I did not sleep at all last night. Lance vill be delighted to know I am a nervous wreck for de first time in my life." He made a face at his coffee and pushed it away. "I tink I vill trow up."

"You will do no such thing," Keith countered in his commander's voice. He took the coffee from Sven. "Lay off this stuff; the acid isn't going to help your stomach." He got up and rummaged through the refrigerator and cabinets, coming up with leftover rice, milk, sugar, and some raisins. "I know you don't feel like it, but you need to eat. Romelle will kill us if you pass out during the ceremony. I'll make you my Oba-chan's rice pudding. Easy on your stomach." He put the rice in a pot and started the recipe.

Sven turned his chair to watch Keith at the stove. "Vhat if I am making a mistake?" he said softly. "Keit, vhat if I am ruining her life? She deserves better dan me, a prince to take care of her."

Keith looked up at him, startled. "Sven, to her, you _are_ a prince. You saved her life and she loves you. Besides, from what I have seen of the princes coming to court Allura, you are more noble and a better match to Romelle than any of them."

Lance came in, yawning, as Keith finished his statement. "Hell yeah, you're better than the damned princes. More like princesses, actually." He wrapped his arms around Keith's waist, sniffing the pot appreciatively. "Rice pudding! You haven't made that since finals. . ." he turned to look at Sven. "Holy hells. Are you actually _nervous?"_

"Yes, and DON'T start vit me, McClain," Sven snapped. "I do not need your smart mouth."

Lance's eyes widened, and he took the chair next to Sven. "I wasn't going to start, not today," he said quietly. "Look, relax. None of this formal bullshit really matters. What's important is that you're going to marry the girl you love, that loves you. Everything and everyone else can go straight to hell."

Sven sighed. "You are right. I'm sorry, Lance. You did not deserve that."

"No biggie," Lance grinned. "I'll earn it before the day's over, I'm sure." He glanced at the paper Sven had in front of him. "What's that?"

Sven actually felt himself blush. "A letter to Romelle. I haf not been able to see or talk to her for two days. Royal tradition. I. . . just vanted to let her know I loved her and vas tinking of her dis morning." One of Romelle's maids came into the kitchen; he quickly added a line to the letter, folded it, and handed it to her. "Please, can you take dis to Princess Romelle?"

The girl gave him a haughty look. "Our orders are that she is to have no contact with you before the ceremony, Commander."

"Damned good thing _we_ don't have those orders." Lance reached over and snatched the paper from the girl. "_I'll_ take this to Romelle, Sven." He tucked it inside his jacket and left the kitchen after stealing a kiss from Keith. The maid sniffed and went about her duties.

Keith finished the rice pudding and dished up a bowl, setting it in front of Sven with an air that said he expected it to vanish. Sven reluctantly picked up the spoon and dug in grimly, getting a bit more enthusiastic after the first taste. Keith nodded in approval and sat across from him. "How are you feeling? Aside from the nerves, I mean."

Sven looked up with a sigh. "How do you tink, Keit? Tree veeks ago I fell from de top of Castle Doom. I vish ve could vait on dis, but. . .de people of Pollux are not happy dat Romelle and I haf been sleeping together, and dis is de only vay to make it right."

"Yeah, I know." Keith glared until Sven started eating again. "Are you going to be all right for the ceremony?"

"For Romelle, I vill," Sven said firmly. "I can do anyting for her." He ate in silence for a while, Keith watching him. Finally, he pushed the bowl away. "I should go start getting ready."

Keith nodded. "So should I. And if I don't check Lance's uniform, he'll leave half his medals off." He got to his feet and clapped Sven on the shoulder. "See you in front of the cathedral in three hours."

"Tank you, Keit. For everyting." Sven rose and followed him out, going to his room and laying his dress uniform out.

Meanwhile, Lance had made his way into the Royal wing and to Romelle's suite. At the door, he was met by Romelle's governess, Lady Catera. "You may not enter," she scowled, folding her arms across her scrawny chest. "Her Highness is not dressed."

"Oh, come on," Lance protested. "I am married, gay, and know what Sven would do to anyone who looked at Romelle funny. I'm the safest man in this castle to be in that room. Please; Sven and Romelle are my friends; just let me talk to her for a minute!"

"And how do I know that you are not bringing communication from Commander Holgersson?" The scowl had not lightened, and for a second Lance marveled that someone so scrawny could channel Nanny so well.

He regained his focus and straightened, every inch the Garrison officer he usually tried to avoid being. "I swear to you, on my honor as a Garrison officer and a Voltron Force pilot, Commander Holgersson gave me no messages for Princess Romelle."

Lady Catera looked unconvinced, but a husky contralto came from inside the room. "Let Commander McClain in, Catera. I want to talk to him." The governess snorted in disapproval, but moved aside and let Lance come in.

Romelle sat at her dressing table in her lingerie, maids on all sides; one fussing with her tiara, one doing her makeup, one doing her nails, and one at her feet slipping on ivory satin heels. As Lance came in, the princess quickly shooed them all out and turned to face him. "He's going to call it off, isn't he?" she asked without preamble. "I had a feeling he would. . . I haven't heard anything from him in two days and. . . ." tears welled up in her dark blue eyes.

"Hey now, none of that," Lance said gently, perching on the edge of her vanity and handing her his handkerchief. "Are you kidding? Sven's nervous as hell, but he's not calling off anything. He _loves_ you, Romelle. He's just following that royal tradition of yours about not seeing each other before the wedding."

Romelle stopped dabbing her eyes and looked at him in confusion. "What royal tradition? The only tradition we have is that he can't see me in my wedding dress. Who told him that?"

"One of your courtiers—Lord Allessar, I believe." Lance shook his head. "I am NOT telling Sven he could've been with you all this time. We don't have time to clean the blood up before the ceremony."

Romelle was fuming. "_I_ will deal with Lord Allessar. He was one of the main ones who encouraged Father to . . . give me to Lotor." She started to stand; Lance pushed her back into her chair.

"Later," he advised. "This is your wedding day; don't let a stuffy old goat like that ruin it. Besides. . . " he reached into his jacket and took out Sven's note. "I didn't come here for that. I brought you a letter from Sven."

Her eyes flew wide and she grabbed the letter. "Lance! You swore that Sven didn't give you a letter for me!"

"And so he didn't," the lanky pilot grinned. "I took it from the maid he gave it to, who was refusing to bring it to you." He pushed to his feet. "I've gotta go climb in my uniform; Keith's going to have a fit if I'm late."

Romelle looked up from the letter, eyes shining. "Thank you, Lance, for everything."

"Thank YOU." Lance knelt beside her, taking her hand. "He nearly died because of me, and you brought him back to us. I'll always owe you for that, Romelle." He kissed her cheek gently, then got up and slipped out as the maids rushed back in.

In the room he and Keith shared, Lance found his dress uniform laid out, and grimaced to see the medals in order. He felt silly wearing all of them, and usually took at least half of them off if he could get away with. But the uniform being laid out meant Keith had checked it before getting in the shower, and would know if he took any of them off.

When Keith came out, black hair still dripping, Lance ducked into the shower, cleaning up and carefully shaving. By the time he came out, Keith had dried his hair and styled it into its usual disorder, and was fastening up his uniform tunic. Lance quickly dried his own hair and dressed, then the two of them met Hunk, Pidge, and Sven outside. The original Voltron Force then headed for the Cathedral of Pollux, to see one of them become part of a new team.


	2. Chapter 2

The original Voltron Force made a striking picture at the front of the cathedral. Four of them in gleaming Garrison white, Sven in the midnight blue of the Polluxian Special Forces, and all of them covered in medals. More than a few women in the congregation sighed over the five handsome men.

Sven was oblivious to all of them. All of his attention, all of his being, was focused on the back of the church, where Romelle would soon come in. He still didn't quite believe this was all real, that in just a few short hours, his _elske_ would become his wife. Half of him expected to wake cold and alone back in his cave on Doom; only the pain from his still-healing injuries told him this was no dream.

The music changed; the doors at the back of the church opened and the first of Romelle's two bridesmaids entered, scowling. Sven hid a smile. Lady Larmina was ten years old, and thoroughly loathed anything resembling a dress. Getting her into the lavender ankle-length dress had required a bribe of two weeks' one on one martial arts training with Keith; clearly, though, no one had negotiated her pretending to like it.

Next came Allura, beaming as she glided down the aisle. The lavender dress and silver sandals looked worlds better on her than the pink ballgowns she usually favored, and he smiled at her. Her gaze was focused over Sven's right shoulder, and he suppressed a groan. Allura had gone head over heels for Keith the minute she came down those stairs their first day on Arus, and despite all their talking to her, despite Keith and Lance's very careful—and embarrassed—explanation of their relationship, she still had hopes that Keith would "come to his senses" and be her knight in shining armor, just like the fairy tales she read, just like she saw Sven had done for her cousin Romelle.

Allura took her place next to Larmina; the music erupted into a fanfare and shifted again as everyone rose. The back door of the church opened, and Sven took a step forward in spite of himself. Then Romelle came in walking beside Bandor, and he forgot how to breathe. She was a vision: blonde hair piled high in ringlets, secured with a tiara, with one or two escaping to frame her face; ivory silk and lace dress that bared her shoulders and hugged her slim figure, stopping just short of the floor. Her deep blue eyes were locked on him, and Sven could see tears shimmering in them as she got closer. His angel, in every sense of the word.

Romelle's world had narrowed to the powerful dark figure at the front of the church, grey eyes holding her misty gaze like a beacon, pulling her forward. He still didn't seem quite real to her, his love didn't seem real. Her world had ended, she thought, when Lotor raped her and threw her aside when he tired of her. She had been ready to die when the bastard threw her in the Pit of Skulls. Instead, her life had begun anew, courtesy of the man waiting for her. His gentle, patient love had saved her, in more ways than one. It still overwhelmed her, how much she loved him and he loved her in return.

At long last they reached the altar; Sven stepped down and Bandor put her hand in his. "Take care of her," the prince said quietly, then stopped, blushing, thinking of the wounds the older man carried from doing just that.

"Alvays and forever," Sven answered solemnly, then bowed over Romelle's hand and kissed it. "You look amazing, elskede," he whispered. Without waiting for a reply, he stepped back up to the altar, turning to face her and taking both her hands as the priest began the ceremony.

The two of them barely heard as the priest spoke of the duties involved in a royal marriage, of the obligations to support each other, to provide heirs for the monarchy. It was real, they were actually getting married. They had survived everything Doom could throw at them, and now. . .now they had the rest of their lives together. Sven squeezed Romelle's hands gently, and got a soft squeeze in return. Having her love was worth every spasm, every spike of pain his back would ever give him.

The priest finished his dry recitation and asked for the rings. Romelle got Sven's from Allura; Lance reached into his pocket and took out the dainty blue and white sapphire band that was Romelle's, handing it to Sven. The priest blessed both rings, then nodded for them to continue.

Romelle slid the plain silver band onto Sven's finger, then looked up at him, tears in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks as she spoke her vows. "I found you in the midst of a very rough time in my life. You were the strength that helped me through. Because of you, Erik Sven Holgersson, I laugh, I smile , I dare to dream again. Today I give myself to you as a friend. A lover and companion for life."

Sven found he had to clear his throat before he could speak, gently slipping his wedding ring onto Romelle's hand. "Romelle Amarrissa Callenderas. My elskede, my angel. You rescued me from the darkness, returned me to life." His voice broke; it was a minute before he got enough control to continue in his own language. "Du er mitt lys og mitt liv, mitt hjerte og min sjel.* Today I give myself to you as a friend and protector, a lover and companion for life."

The priest put his hands over their joined ones. "Blessed Goddess, Bright Mother. Grant your favor to the union of Romelle Amarrissa and Erik Sven. May they prosper and be fruitful, and serve you all the days of their lives." He smiled at the couple. "As the Voice of the Lady, I pronounce you man and wife. Erik Sven, kiss your wife, to show all present your claiming of her."

"Claiming be damned," Sven whispered to Romelle as he leaned down. "Jeg elsker deg, min Romelle.** Now and always." He kissed her gently and lovingly, to the applause of the Force and the assembled guests.

*You are my light and my life, my heart and my soul.

**I love you, my Romelle.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I don't usually do this, but I want to address a couple of reviewers, and they have not given me the option of PMing them. First, Smithy: I'm disappointed that all you can find to comment on in my fic is a minor background detail that gets maybe two sentences. K/L is as established a couple in fanfic as Lotor/Allura. Yes, Keith has risked his life many times for Allura. He DOES love her, in my universe, but as a little sister. He's not in love with her. And if you are not homophobic, then why does my pairing of Keith/Lance give you "the willies" and come off as creepy? Secondly, to LinkandZeldagrl: Plagiarism is a serious accusation, and it's beyond cowardly to make it in anonymity, with no evidence to back it. The only part of this story I did not write myself is Romelle's wedding vows, and I have permission to use those. *Deep breath* OK, here we go. Last chapter:

Sven stood outside the ballroom, Romelle's hand tucked into the crook of his left elbow, as they waited to be introduced into their wedding reception. He glanced down at the petite blonde and smiled. "Haf I told you dat you look beautiful, Mrs. Holgersson? And dat I love you?"

She squeezed his arm. "You have, but you don't have to stop. And I love the sound of that. Mrs. Holgersson." She all but purred the name, and Sven laughed, leaning down for a quick kiss. "You're finally mine," she said softly. "No one can take you from me now."

Sven put his hand over hers. "No von ever could, elskede. I vould kill anyvon who tried. I am yours, completely. I haf been since dat first day in de Pit."

She smiled up at him, and would have said more, but just then the doors swung open, and the Chamberlain announced, "Crown Princess Romelle, and her Prince Consort, Commander Sven Holgersson!" Sven patted her hand, and they walked in to the applause of their guests and friends.

Sven led her to the center of the dance floor, taking her right hand in his left and putting his right hand at the back of her small waist. The musicians began the waltz they had selected for their first dance, and he deftly guided Romelle around the floor. She looked up at him, love and surprise in her blue eyes."I didn't know you could dance so well!"

He laughed. "My mother vas de district governor for Norvay; I vas in dance and manners classes fery young. And it is required at de Academy as vell, much to Lance and Hunk's displeasure." He slowly spun her away from him, then back into his arms, and dipped her for a kiss as the music ended.

Romelle blushed at the applause the kiss got, and let Sven put an arm around her to guide her to the table where their wedding cake resided, a six-tier affair of lemon, vanilla, and orange cakes. Sven's Academy saber lay on the table next to the cake, ribbons wrapped around the guard. She picked it up, Sven covered her hands with his own, and they cut the cake. Servers moved in to continue the cutting, and quickly placed small pieces in front of the bridal couple. As they picked them up and moved to feed each other, Sven paused, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Erik Sven, don't you dare," Romelle warned. "I WILL make you sleep on the couch tonight!" He grinned at her, then took a tiny amount of frosting on his finger and dotted her nose with it before gently feeding her the bite of cake.

Lance laughed at them as they came to the head table and sat down to await dinner. "You're smarter than I am, Viking, I'll give you that."

Sven snorted. "Ve knew dat. I haf not forgotten you smashing YOUR vedding cake into Keit's face. Or him making you sleep in de common room dat night."

Lance grinned. "Totally worth it." He leaned over and kissed Keith's cheek, earning a gentle smile in return. Dinner arrived then, and everyone turned their attention to eating. Sven fed Romelle bites from his plate, hoping to hide the fact that he was barely eating. He was really starting to hurt, and while he could hide the pain, he could not keep it from stealing his appetite.

As the dinner wound down, and servers distributed the cake, Lance got to his feet, tapping his wineglass. Conversations died as the guests turned their attention to the Voltron Force second. "Well, I never thought I would see the day when the Viking Scourge of Garrison Academy was tamed," he grinned, glancing at a glowering Sven and blushing Romelle. The guests laughed; when they subsided, Lance's grin faded, and he continued in a serious tone. "In all seriousness; Sven, you've been the best friend a guy could ever have. I owe my life to you, and will never be able to make that up. I love you like a brother, and I am so grateful to Romelle, for finding you and bringing you back to us." He smiled at Romelle, who beamed up at him. "Romelle, welcome to our crazy little family. We love you; not just for Sven, but for your own self. We're glad you're with us." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then clapped a hand on Sven's shoulder. The big Norwegian, eyes suspiciously bright, stood up and embraced him fiercely. "I meant every word," Lance whispered.

"I know," Sven whispered in return. "Jeg elsker deg også, min bror." He released Lance and sat down as the orchestra struck up a dance. Lance offered his hand to Romelle.

"Mrs. Holgersson, may I have the honor of a dance?" She glanced to Sven, who nodded encouragingly, and put her hand in Lance's, letting him help her to her feet and escort her to the dance floor.

"I thought you didn't like to dance?" she asked as Lance deftly swung her into the dance.

He laughed. "Sven always gets that confused. I hated the Academy class; the teacher was an idiot. I DO like to dance, very much, but Keith's a hard one to get on the floor. He doesn't like calling attention to himself."

She smiled up at him. "Well, you can dance with me any time. If Sven isn't dancing."

"I will remember that." Lance glanced over her shoulder to see Sven, talking to Keith, but his eyes locked on Romelle. "I've never seen him this happy, Romelle. I know I don't have to tell you; take care of him, and he will always take care of you. He'd die for you without a second thought."

Keith and Sven were watching their spouses, but most of Keith's attention was on Sven, who was pale and getting paler. "Lance comes back with her, you two should make your getaway," he said quietly. "I know you're hurting."

Sven shook his head. "De reception vill go on for a vhile yet. Ve vill be expected to be here."

"No one will think twice about the bride and groom being eager to get to their wedding night," Keith countered. "They will talk more if you collapse in the middle of your reception, which you look like you're going to do any minute. I'm serious, Sven. I can't order you anymore, but. . . I can ask as a friend. Take Romelle, get out of here, and go get some rest. This party will go on without you."

The Norwegian finally nodded with a sigh. "I haf overdone it today," he agreed ruefully as Lance and Romelle came back to the table. He got to his feet and held a hand to Romelle. "Are you ready to go, elskede?"

Romelle glanced up at him, startled; the reception had barely begun. But as she looked, she could see the pain in his face, and how pale he was. "I believe I am." She put her hand in his, smiling shyly up at him through her lashes.

Sven raised his voice to address the reception. "Ve vill take our leaf of you now. Good night, and enjoy de rest of de reception." He tucked Romelle's hand into the crook of his arm, and they swept out to the applause of their guests. Once out of sight, he paused and leaned against the wall, fighting a wave of dizziness.

Romelle put a hand on his shoulder. "Sven? Are you all right?"

"Ja, just give me a minute." He put his head down and took a couple of breaths, then gathered his strength and pushed off the wall. Two more rest stops, and they arrived at their suite. Sven unbuttoned Romelle's dress, then sat on the bed and removed his uniform. Once stripped to his boxers and tshirt, he carefully crawled under the covers; Romelle in her lingerie joined him a moment later. "Not de vedding night I intended," he said ruefully, putting an arm around her. "I am sorry, elskede."

Romelle snuggled up to his side, putting a gentle hand on his chest. "Shh, just rest. We have the rest of our lives together. I love you, Sven. I'm so glad to be your wife."

Sven turned and kissed her lovingly. "And I am glad to be your husband. Jeg elsker deg, Mrs. Holgersson." He turned and put his other arm around her, and they fell asleep together.


End file.
